


Chores/Almost

by tegan_m14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Cas, Bottom Dean, Bunker Sex, Chores, Destiel - Freeform, Helpful Sam, Hide your children, Jealous Dean, M/M, Really long for a oneshot, Sastiel But only in Deans mind, Top Cas, Top Dean, a little too helpful, destiel smut, like really smutty sometimes, power bottom!cas, smutty smutty smut, sort of slow burn, that escalated quickly, they share
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 22:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13820586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tegan_m14/pseuds/tegan_m14
Summary: Long, slow-burning oneshot that is honestly so smutty that people have told me they physically needed to bathe after reading it. Enjoy!!!ORThe one where Castiel decides to do chores around the bunker, but he's pretty bad at it. Dean wonders if Sastiel is a thing. Sam is a helpful moose.





	Chores/Almost

**Author's Note:**

> Context- They're all in the bunker and Cas does not have his grace, just pretend he never got it back, and this takes place after the Fan Fiction episode.

 

One night at dinner, Castiel decided to share some news. "So, guys." when Sam and Dean looked up at Cas, he continued, "It has recently come to my attention that I do more harm than help around the bunker, and so, " he took a pause, ignoring their protests, "I've made a decision, and I'd like you all to accept it." The boys exchanged a scared look. Would their best friend leave? Again? "I've decided to...", he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the boys' reactions, "do chores". The boys simultaneously broke out into their Winchester grin, that shit-eating smile Cas had grown to care for and recognize anywhere.

"Cas, bud, that sounds like a great idea!" Dean exclaimed, just happy his angel- no, no, his best friend, he meant best friend- wouldn't be leaving.

"Really?" Cas felt hopeful. Now he could be useful again.

"Yes, really." Sam high-fived his graceless friend. "In fact, I'll show you some basic chores tonight, and you can just do them through the course of the week, and see what you think."

The moose and the angel were grinning so widely at each other, Cas almost didn't notice Dean's grin fall, almost didn't notice him glare at the table, or punch his own hand where Sam couldn't see.

Almost.

***

The next day, Sam took Cas on a tour of the bunker, pointing out carpets that had to be vacuumed or shelves that had to be dusted, while Dean sat on the couch trying to distract himself with Busty Asian Beauties. Meanwhile, Sam taught Cas how to plug in the vacuum, how to clean out the bathroom ("You brush out the bowl you urinate in?"), and told him to make sure he changed the bedsheets and dried the dishes completely before putting them away, and " _Please_ be careful, Cas, the dishes are from back when the Men of Letters were here".

***

That Monday, Cas started vacuuming the carpet, when he decided that hey, chores should be fun. He planted his feet firmly on the carpet in front of Dean, turned away, and tried to reach as far forward as he could with the vacuum. He ended up being bent over while Dean flipped through skin mags, doing his best not to look at the angels ass. Suddenly he heard a noise. Cas had lost his balance.

"D-d-dean!" Cas cried out, falling forward.

"Whoa, bud," Sam leapt forward- where had he even come from? Freaking stealth moose. "I gotcha." He caught Castiel, in a weird stomach-down bridal position. Dean, who had jumped up, sat back down, grabbing the magazine. Cas smiled at Sam, and almost didn't notice Dean scowl, or clutch the magazine so hard the pages started to crumple at the edges.

Almost.

***

Tuesday, Cas decided to dust. He dusted every surface, high and low. Or... he tried. He got the low ones, anyway. Dean sat at the kitchen table with a burger, while Cas did his best to reach higher and higher surfaces. Finally, Cas had to stretch, reaching up for a shelf a good three feet above him. Dean sat there, eating his burger, not looking at Castiels hips where his shirt was riding up. Of course not. Why would he look? Just cause his friend had chosen an attractive vessel? _Not attractive_ , Dean reminded himself. _Dude, you're straight. Note to self: watch more porn_. Suddenly, he realized Cas had turned his angelic -in the literal angel-y way, of course- torso towards Dean. _Don't look at the abs, don't look at the hips, don't look at anythi... whoops. Really gotta go on a porn binge. Straight, of course._

"Dean, could you help me reach this shelf?" Cas inquired. What, did he want Dean to do his chore? Cas had willingly signed up, for God's sake. Or... maybe he wanted Dean to pick him up? Thanking God for keeping Cas' head turned away, Dean tried to choke down his blush as he stood and made his way over to the angel in distress. Suddenly, Sam was sweeping past Dean to help Cas, for the second time in two days.

"Gotcha again, man." Sam plucked the feather duster from Cas' fingers and reached to dust the shelf above his head. "You never would've reached that, dude. Not even Dean could help with that." Dean smiled tightly, sat down to pick up his burger again. "Here," Sam joked, handing back the duster, "Now we can call you the Angel With a Feather Duster."

"But," Cas began, his face arranged into confusion (Well, he had seemed confused ever since the comment about Dean), "Dean says I am the Angel With a Shotgun." At Sam's perplexed glance, he continued, "Apparently I was named by The Taxi? Is that a god?"

"Oh," Sam laughed, "It's a song, Cas. It's by a band called The Cab. Don't worry, we aren't dealing with any more gods. All the other ones were bad enough. Anyway, I like that better. I should start calling you Angel."

Sam smiled at Cas, who was so happy with what the Winchesters thought of him that he almost didn't see a tendon in Dean's neck stress (which only happened when he was _really_ pissed), or Dean's hands tighten so quickly around the burger that ketchup dripped quickly out of the side.

Almost.

***

Wednesday, Cas decided to get cleaning the bathroom over with. (Quick layout thing... Sam and Deans bedrooms both attach to the bathroom. Carry on. Oh now I have Kansas stuck in my head, here we go...) Dean lay on his bed, watching the game on the flat screen TV. How is there even a TV? How is it possibly flat screen? Those weren't even invented when this place got closed up! He sighed happily, thanking the Men of Letters for being so ahead of their time.

His bathroom door was open, and he could see Cas scrubbing the can. Nothing hot about that, at least. But since he's Dean, he turned away from the game and watched Cas for a couple minutes. He watched as Cas diligently scrubbed the inside of the toilet, then wiped down the outside of the bowl. He watched Cas clean out the sink, swipe water spots off the mirror, and mop the linoleum, a look of concentration and dedication on his face all the while. Dean loved this, loved seeing Cas working, so dedicated to the cause, so eager to help. He recalled what a big deal Cas thought announcing his participation in chores was. He smiled at the memory.

He suddenly heard a big _fwwwshhhhh_ from the bathroom, leapt up. What had that idiot done? He sprinted the eight feet to the bathroom, laughed when he saw Cas pressed against the glass door of the shower, on the inside. He looked terrified, and the water was running. Dean laughed at the situation, laughter trailing off when he looked at the t shirt Cas had been wearing to do his chores... it had gotten soaked, and it was hugging his chest. Dean could've stayed there forever, but...

"Dammit, Cas!" Sam laughed, bouncing out of his room like a jerk, taking off his shirt and passing it to Dean. "Hold that, would ya?" He hopped into the shower, where Cas was banging on the glass, trying to escape. Sam pulled Cas off the glass, turned him around, and showed him how his shirt had caught the tap and started the shower.

Dean figured he was no longer needed in there, so he stalked back to his room, lay on his memory foam. But he didn't look back up at the game. Dean finally had to admit that he was jealous of Sam, and he had to wonder if... what had Sam called it? Satsil? Satlies? No... Sastiel. Yes, that was it. Was Sastiel going to... some kind of weapon, Dean, come on. Artillery? No... catapult? No, but closer. Got it! Was Sastiel going to... what was it? Cannon? Was Sastiel going to cannon?

Back in the bathroom, Sam helped Cas out of the shower. Cas realized his shirt had gotten caught on the towel bar, so he turned awkwardly to untangle it. From his angle, he noted, he could see Dean. Not the time, he reminded himself, reaching to figure out the shirt. Because he was concentrating, he almost didn't notice Dean turn away slightly when Sam smiled at him, almost didn't notice Dean's grip on the remote tighten to the point of white knuckles.

Almost.

***

Thursday, Cas decided to do the dishes. He washed off the plates, the cups, the spoons, the forks, the knives, the bowls, all of it. Then he started putting everything away. Dean sat at the counter, reading the newspaper, and obviously not watching Cas. I mean what. You didn't read that. Haha. Very boob love. Much straight. Tons heterosexualness. What.

At any rate, Cas kept putting the dishes away, and Dean kept watching. They went on like that for a while, until Cas got bored and started juggling plates because " _Yes I can, Dean, don't look at me like that_ ". He kept juggling, refusing to acknowledge Dean after the little can-he-juggle-or-can't-he argument. Dean just sat there, looking at Cas over the top of the paper. All was mostly peaceful, aside from the graceless angel juggling plates in the kitchen. Cause y'know. That happened. Anyways.

All was peaceful, until Cas snuck a look at Dean. Cas was so surprised that Dean was already looking that he fumbled and dropped all the plates. He managed to catch one, but the other two smashed and splintered around his feet, where he stood, staring at Dean, both men looking shocked. Slowly, Cas put the remaining dish on the counter and shifted his gaze to his feet, bare on the porcelain-covered linoleum.

"Dean?"

"Cas?" Dean seemed to recognize the problem and want to help, but he was holding himself back. Why wouldn't he help?

"I... I seem to be... trapped." Cas wondered why Dean hadn't jumped up to help him like he had every other day a chore had gone wrong. He wanted to see what Dean was thinking but he didn't think he would like what he found.

If he had looked into Dean's mind, he would've found Dean mentally counting down. _Two, on-_.

"Cas, what did you do?" Sam appeared in the doorway as if on cue. Well I mean, the author cued him, so there's that. He walked over to Cas, wearing his shoes, and picked Cas up in a bridal position. Let's flash to Dean's mind, oui?

Dean scowled, looking at his brother holding the ex-angel Dean had previously thought of as his. If Cas was condoning this behaviour, he must have feelings for Sam, obviously. Cas wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and turned to stare into Dean's eyes -another enigma of Castiel, why would he stare at Dean while basically hugging Sam?- while smiling sheepishly. Suddenly Cas closed his eyes. He looked like he was imagining something he really wanted, and Dean couldn't help picture that exact face, preferably with amazing, perfect, ocean-blue eyes open, kneeling in front of him, and maybe... no. No. Dean, shut the fuck up now, stop thinking about him like that. Dean tightened his fist around the newspaper, feeling... no, no, no. This was not happening.

Great. Fantastic, bloody amazing.

(Flash to Cas cause I'm a bad person)

Cas looked over to Dean, smiling in what he hoped was an apologetic glance. It probably made Dean uncomfortable to see Sam holding Cas like this. Not that Cas was really enjoying it. Well, it was definitely cool being held up like this, but there was someone Cas would much rather be holding him in this position. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine it wasn't Sam's strong arms keeping him in place, but Dean's. All of a sudden, his eyes flew open as Dean seemed to tense up... his fists tightened on the newspaper he'd picked back up, his face turned eggshell white. Cas thought of the last time he'd seen the expression he was now viewing on Dean's face. It had been on a movie from the bottom of the back of Dean's closet that Dean didn't know he'd borrowed. Cas briefly entertained the idea that Dean was in the same situation as the guy in the movie, but quickly let go of that theory with a shake of the head. For Father's sake, the guy in the movie had had...

(Dean. Hope ya don't get whiplash, sorry bros)

... A boner. A boner, how did this freakin happen? Literally nothing anywhere near arousing was happening. Sure, there was that whole thing about picturing Cas blowing him, but come on! Really? Dean saw Cas give his head a quick shake. What was up with that? Whatever it was, maybe it had to do with the fact that Dean's expression was most likely one of someone about to moan (cause he was. But why?), or maybe because his face must've been really pale, what with a lot of his blood pooling down south. No matter the reason, Dean knew he had to get out of there, and quick. Sam was still holding Cas, who was still staring at Dean, who was still feeling a tremendous urge to get the hell out of Dodge (And probably go satisfy another tremendous urge). He stood up abruptly, making sure certain parts of his anatomy were hidden by the table.

"Dammit Cas, those were the good plates!" Dean growled. Might as well try to get his mind on something else, right? There it is. Okay, so staying around was not an option. Back to plan A, I guess. What was this stick-around plan, even? Plan D, for Dumbass?

"Man, take it easy," Sam soothed his brother, "It's his first time doing the dishes, and it can get pretty boring. Not saying he should start juggling valuables when he gets bored, but I can understand it." He shot a toothy grin to Cas, setting him down.

Cas grinned back out of courtesy, and found himself wondering the one thing not a single angel understood. What colour were Sam's eyes? He remember asking his Father that, once. He'd never told the brothers, but he had met God, once, when he had been resurrected. He had seized the opportunity to ask the question that no knew knew the answer to "Father, what colour are the youngest Winchesters eyes?" He still remembered the answer, too, clear as Balthazars hatred for The Titanic. "Castiel, my son, his eyes are all that which angels cannnot understand. They exist to prove to angels and myself that we don't know everything. Therefore, we shall never know the colour of his eyes, because in some ways, they are all that is holding us back from another angel starting the apocalypse. If another angel believes they know more than you or me or your sisters and brothers, who knows what may happen?" Cas didn't want Sam to realize he was looking (unlike when he was looking at Dean), but he looked for long enough that Dean was able to get out from behind the table, shielding by the paper he was still clutching. Cas watched Dean go, semi-attentively. In fact, if he'd payed less attention, he almost wouldn't be able to hear Dean's quiet curses, or almost be able to see the odd way he walked off.

Almost.

***

Friday, after getting a whiff of the trenchcoat, Cas decided to do the laundry. He gathered the laundry baskets from Sam and Deans bedrooms, and brought them to the laundry room. He started sorting them into piles by colour. Light, dark, and everything in the middle.

Meanwhile, Dean was in the archives looking for something on a kapug, a water spirit that killed its victims by dragging them underwater and eating the drowned corpses, that Sam believed was part of a girl who had drowned in the lake back when the Men of Letters occupied the bunker. Let's be honest, the case wasn't the most interesting, so Dean couldn't exactly be blamed for turning to watch Cas sort through the laundry. Cas took all of Sam's clothes from the basket and put them into piles, and then reached for Dean's basket. _This is kinda weird. Cas is going to be going through my clothes, touching my pants. And my underwear. My underwear!_

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Did you urinate? Why is it white?"

Fuck. Gotta fake innocence here. "Cas, the hell are you talking about?"

"Your... your underwear. It seems to be soaked in some type of white substance." Shit, of course yesterday had to come back to haunt me. That's what I get for jerking off over one of my best friends, not to mention the fact that he's a fucking angel. "Simply from touching it," Cas continued as Dean held back from opening his mouth... either a curse or a moan could come (haha) out, he wasn't gonna risk it, "I can sense it is a bodily fluid, but I doubt blood, and blood and urine are the only fluids that come out of a human in this amount."

"Not the only ones," Dean muttered. He walked over to Cas and snatched up the offending fabric. "Cas, just forget about it, okay? We'll do the laundry, and just... forget about the underwear. And even if you don't, just please don't tell Sam, Cas. Please."

He gave Cas that look that made the angel want to just give this human some happiness, dammit. "Of course, Dean. I would never tell Sam about your mistimed urination without your consent."

Dean gave a dry smile and threw the boxers into the washing machine. "I gotta get back to checking out some brain food on the water chomper."

Cas smiled and tipped the laundry soap into the machine, watching Dean get back to research. Dean Winchester, he thought, I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go.

He turned the machine on and sat there, simply watching Dean.

They sat there for a while, Dean researching how to kill a kapug, and Cas just sitting there, taking it all in. Listening to the rumble of the washing machine, the rustle of papers, Dean's low mutters, watching Dean flip through papers and stop occasionally to scribble notes about the case in the margins, asking himself little questions every few minutes. Suddenly, Dean's head perked up.

"Man, do you... do you smell that? And what's that noise?"

Castiel didn't notice anything different, but as he concentrated, he realized that, yes, something was off. The air was suddenly strong with the sticky-sweet scent of laundry soap, and an admittedly... different noise was rumbling out of the laundry room. The men exchanged glances and walked over to the laundry room.

Dean hefted his silver knife- you never know- and kicked the door open. As soon as it swung open and they could see inside, Dean dropped the knife and went back to his research.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"For what, Cas? So you put a fuckload too many soap bubbles in. Whatever." He shook his head and cracked open a book that looked like it had been thoroughly mistreated by the Men of Letters. Once again, Cas nearly listened to Dean's mind. Once again, he held back. And once again, if he had listened, he would have heard a mooseful countdown. _Three, two..._

"Yo, what happened? What's that smell?" Sam poked his head in the doorway.

"Castiel-“ (Cas winced. Why was Dean so angry?) “-managed to fuck up another chore," Dean muttered, "Want to deal with it again?"

"Cas?" Sam turned to Castiel for an explanation.

"I seem to have been... distracted while I was putting the soap bubbles in the washing machine, and... well, see for yourself."

He motioned to the laundry room, and Sam walked over tentatively. He picked up the silver knife from the floor and held it in front of himself protectively. Slowly, he kicked out a foot to open the door, but unlike Dean, he started laughing as soon as he could see inside.

"Dude, really? Here I thought the frickin kapug got in the bathroom somehow, and it was just..." He trailed off, still laughing. "Geez, Cas. Well, let's get this cleaned up and let Grumpy Gus over there get back to work." He motioned to Dean with a jerk of his thumb, and ushered Cas towards the laundry room.

They both set to work, scooping up the bubbles and wiping the floor. Scoop, wipe, repeat. Scoop, wipe, repeat. Cas found himself actually enjoying the task, and he was so absorbed in it he almost didn't see Dean glancing at him every few seconds, or glaring at Sam, or slamming closed each book when he finished it.

Almost.

***

Saturday, Cas decided he would change the bedsheets. He thought about it for a while, then realized that since Dean was mad, it would be a show of good faith to change Dean's sheets first. Plus, it would keep Cas out of Dean's hair for the rest of the day, since Dean didn't want to be around him. Cas sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. Why was Dean so angry?

Back in the kitchen, Dean was doing a bit of scheming.

"C'mon, Sammy, it's pie! You gonna turn your back on me over pie? I'm beggin', man. You need me to go down on my knees? I will, Sammy. Pie, man, it's like... the only thing better than sex is pie, in my book. Pie. Please. I need pie. It's like water, or rabbit food, or any of that other weird shit you live off of. Please." Dean was literally down on his knees, clasping his hands and shaking them at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean, there's a few reasons I can't just drop everything and get you some pie. First, I need to stay here and research. We're hunting something!"

"Go hunt me some pie, then."

"Dean. Anyways, next, I need to be around to help Cas with his chores. Who knows whether he'll mess up today's, too."

"Sam, c'mon man. I think I can help Cas with chores for one day. Besides, you'll only be gone a few hours. Bee-tee-dubs, the nearest bakery is about an hour away. Look, I'll pay. Plus gas money. And a service fee. With interest." He shoved about $300 into Sam's hand.

"Dean, how bad do you want this pie?"

"Bad enough to pay 300 bucks for it," Dean muttered, "but there's other benefits, too."

Sam didn't miss his smirk. "Other benefits? What, being alone with Cas?"

Dean glared at his brother. "Fuck up, you sonofabitch. I meant getting you away from me for a few hours. Look, I gave you $300. Go, get my pie, and keep the change. Now!"

Sam smirked, clutching the money, and left the bunker. When Dean heard Baby's rumble fading away, he sat down at the kitchen table and snatched up a beer, thinking about what Sam had said. Was it true? Did he subconsciously kick Sam out to be alone with Cas? Nah. He tried to ignore all thoughts of Sam and Cas, and turned on the tv, watching the news.

Back in Dean's bedroom, Cas was trying to change the bedsheets. He pulled off the old bedsheets (Dean seriously needed to shower more often) and threw them in the laundry basket. He then grabbed the new sheet, and tried to hook it around all four corners of the mattress. Why is this so difficult? Sam had shown him how to do this, but then Sam seemed better at at all chores.

Cas hooked the sheet around the first corner, then moved to the second one. He tugged that one down, too. Then he walked around the bed to the third corner, and pulled the sheet around there as the bed creaked. Cursing the old iron bed in Enochian, he walked around to the fourth corner. He yanked the sheet around, but- dammit. He groaned and punched the bed. The first corner had come undone. He walked around to tuck it under, the bed creaking. Why was it freakin doing that? The creaking was loud... Sam would hear, and come help, which Cas didn't want, or Dean would hear, and come investigate, and it wouldn't be a surprise anymore. The opposite corner popped up, and he groaned in frustration again. It went on like that for a while- Cas setting up the final corner, the opposite side coming back up, Cas groaning and punching the bed, and the bed creaking. It all happened on repeat for about half an hour, when Cas decided he should change up routine.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Dean was listening to the news when he heard a strange noise. A creak? Followed by... was that a groan? What? He turned the tv down low and kept listening to the noise. There it was again. Definitely a groan, with a bed creaking at the same time. He stood up, trying to pinpoint the noise. Dean walked up and down the hallways for a few minutes, until he stopped outside his bedroom door. That was definitely it... the bed was creaking from inside, and a voice that was distinctly Cas' was groaning from inside. Dean wandered back to the living room. He sat on the edge of the couch, wondering what had been going on with Cas in his room. He had an inkling of an idea in his mind, but he couldn't seriously entertain that.

(Back to Cas buehehe. Oh and this is during the whole thing on repeat, before Cas decides to change something around)

Cas groaned again. He was actually sweating now... he pulled off the trench coat and suit jacket and white shirt, leaving a grey Led Zeppelin shirt he'd "borrowed" from Dean. The he looked down at his black pants. Even his thighs were sweating! Father, why? He decided to take off his pants, rather than chafe. Who invented denim? He sighed and got back to the task at hand. Hook, pop, groan, creak, repeat.

(Dean)

After about 10 minutes, Dean was honestly considering the idea. Was Cas actually beating off in his room? He listened to the groans and creaking. Christ. He turned the tv up and tried to ignore the noises, even though he wanted literally nothing more than to go confront Cas.

Cas was in the room, thinking. He had to do something different, this obviously wasn't working. That was it, he'd have to ask for help. He stood up, then realized he wasn't wearing pants. He quickly grabbed a towel off the hook behind the door, and went to ask for help.

Dean was sitting there, with his boner from picturing Cas jerking off having just barely deflated (He didn't touch it, he was pretty proud. Cas was fucking hot). Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. He checked the clock, Sam couldn't have been back by now. That meant it must be...

"Hey, Cas," Dean didn't turn. "What can I do for you?"

"Dean, I... I need help." When Dean didn't say anything, he said, "and I'd rather you help me than Sam."

Dean turned, and almost gasped. Cas was standing there, hair even more sexed-up than usual, wearing Dean's Led Zeppelin tee he hasn't seen in weeks, and... was that a towel around his waist? Fuck. He got in control of himself, willing himself not to pop a boner like a fucking teenager. He decided to go the extra step and put on the Winchester Bitchface. "Why my help? Why not Sam's?"

"Well..." Cas stumbled over his words, face bright red. Now Dean would know how physically inept his vessel was. Frickin Jimmy couldn't be a bit taller? Less clumsy? "For a multitude of reasons, I would prefer your help to Sam's. Firstly, I need help because... well, I've been stuck in this situation for a while, and while I know one person should be able to do it, I think it would work better with two people, and I'd prefer one be you."

Dean gulped. "Okay, got that. And I can see why you might want help, since it's your first time... doing this, but why me and not Sam?"

Cas' face resembled an overripe tomato. "Dean, as I'm sure you know, Sam has proven more... physically abled than I am. I'm sure he could actually do this on his own, but I want it to be a joint effort. I want to say I'm at least in part responsible for succeeding in this. You understand?"

"Yeah," Dean whispered, staring at Cas. "Yeah, I do. Should we go... take care of it now?"

"I'd love that," Cas smiled. He grabbed Dean's arm and led him down the hall, stopping in front of Dean's room.

"In... in my room? The first time you do this, you want it to be in my room?" Now Dean's face was redder than Cas', if possible. He blushed even more, noticing how Cas' blush had settled down. I guess, I mean, if he's comfortable.

"Of course," Cas acknowledged, hand on the doorknob. "You seemed angry this week, so I figured taking care of this in your room first would be a show of good faith."

"First?" Dean's face looked like it would explode from all the blood soon.

"Yes, after this, if we could repeat it all in my room and then Sam's, that would be amazing." Cas replied. "That is, if you're comfortable in Sam's room. I've noticed tension."

"Y-y-yeah," Dean stuttered, "Sam's room's fine."

Cas smiled. "You look nervous, Dean. I don't understand this. Humans do this type of act all the time, and I'm assured you've done it a great many times."

Dean nodded. "I have." He seemed to regain his confidence. "So let's do this, and you can pick up a few tips."

Grinning ear to ear -Dean had agreed to help with chores!- Cas led Dean into the bedroom. "Oh, and a quick tip," Cas turned, "The bed creaks, so we have to keep it down. You know, to avoid alerting Sam. I think he might want to help."

Dean turned red again, then smirked. "Don't worry, Sammy isn't home. We can be as loud as you want."

Cas smiled, and they walked the rest of the way into the room. "So Dean, how should we-" Cas was cut off by a mouth on his. He gasped in surprise, giving Dean total access to his mouth. Cas felt his knees buckling- what was going on? What happened to chores? Dean steadied Cas, placing a hand on his back and pressing him in, not stopping for breath. Cas didn't do anything, couldn't. Didn't even find the power to pull away or kiss back. Just stood there. Eventually, he got his bearings, as Dean moved down to his neck and started kissing. Cas put a gentle hand on Dean's chest and pushed him away, not unkindly.

"Dean... what are you doing?"

Dean's face had turned red again, realizing he'd read the situation completely wrong.

"I- I thought when you said you needed help, you... I- All I heard was, was groans, the bed creaking, I thought- I guessed..." He shook his head, looking so embarrassed Cas felt horrible.

"Dean, why... why would your mind jump to- to that?" Cas had to wonder.

"I don't know, Cas, I just... Ever since we met, I've... well, I-I've really... liked you." Dean blushed even harder at the confession it took him so long to make. "I'm really sorry, Cas. Now, if we could do what you actually had in mind? Making the bed, I'm guessing. And if we could please forget that ever happened? Or if you hate me now, I get that too. We can tell Sam why you're leaving, or, or we can say Heaven just needs you back, or-" Dean got so caught up in his babbling, he didn't realize Cas was now holding him close.

"Or," Cas purred in Dean's ear, "we don't do that."

"W-what? You don't want to leave?" Dean looked hopeful. "Okay, let's make the bed, then we can talk."

"Well, the way I see it," Cas' fingers trailed down to Dean's collar, played with it. "there's no point making the bed."

"B-but I thought-"

"There's no point making the bed, if it's just gonna get messed up again." Cas smirked, and Dean's face turned dark, dark red.

"You- you mean..." Dean stuttered.

"You're a bright boy, Dean. Now let's do this." Cas reached for Dean's face and drew him in, kissing him softly. After a minute or twenty, the kiss turned wild. A mess of hands and mouths and tongues and lips and oh god.

Cas took control, weaving his hands into Dean's hair. They kept kissing, not coming up for air until Cas moaned at the feeling against his leg.

"D-Dean, I-" He gasped, clutching wildly at Dean's hair. "Are you...?"

"Yeah, babe, that's me." Dean kissed a trail down Cas' neck, stopping occasionally to bite at the soft skin.

"Dean, I-I... It's happening to me."

Dean almost moaned just looking at Cas, standing there wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt and tented boxers and nothing else.

"Don't worry," Dean growled into Cas' ear,"I'll take of it." He attached his lips to Cas' again, kissing slowly. They stood there for a minute, until Cas got impatient. He kissed harder, and dragged his tongue across Deans full lower lip. Dean gasped, giving Cas full entrance to his mouth. Cas shoved his tongue into Deans mouth and they battled for dominance. After a few minutes of moaning through the kiss and hands everywhere and hair getting pulled, Dean won.

He picked Cas up by the ass, Cas jumping and wrapping his legs around Dean's waist. Without breaking the kiss, Dean carried Cas to the bed and slammed him up against the headboard. Cas groaned and yanked at Dean's shirt, desperate for more skin to be revealed. Dan moaned roughly and pulled away, just long enough to yank off his and Cas' shirts. He threw them somewhere in the room as Cas pulled him back down to the kiss.

"Dean," Cas moaned, "Dean, gonna... I need... need to-" He broke off with a loud groan as Dean sucked and bit at the edge of his collarbone.

"I know, baby, just hold it in. The boxers aren't off yet. Just hang on, you got this." Dean groaned out between kisses.

"Need to... top" Cas finished, flipping them so he straddled Dean. "And these really should come off, hmmm?" He ran his finger along the waistband of Dean's boxers, dipping his finger in slightly at the groin area. "After all," Cas mouthed through the fabric, leaning down, "They're blocking all the fun stuff."

Dean whined loud and bucked his hips up, probably embarrassing for him but Cas had never seen anything hotter. And he'd been around for a long fuckin time.

"Cas- p-please... need- Ca-as!" Dean broke off as Cas slowly pulled down Deans boxers, then his own. He moved back up Dean's body, kissing a trail from his belly button right up to his ear.

"Hmm, Dean? What do you want? Want to make love to me?" Cas almost lost it right then as Dean let out a fucking growl, deep in the back of his throat. "Or maybe you want me to make love to you." Dean made a whimpering noise, and Cas smirked. He trailed a thumb across the head of Dean's cock, enjoying all the different noises he was drawing out of Dean.

"Cas... please." Dean moaned, thrusting up into Cas' hand.

"Maybe you just want me to do this instead?" Cas asked, moving his hand at a breakneck speed while Dean groaned with pleasure. "Who knows, maybe you just want a blowjob." He moved his head back down to Dean's cock and licked a strip from base to head. "Or you're a total bottom and you want nothing more than to give me a blowjob, hey?" He moved up and positioned his cock a foot away from Dean's face.

"Y-yes, " Dean moaned. "Cas, please. Wanna... wanna help you." He used more strength than Cas thought he had at this point and launched himself forward, just enough to wrap his lips around Cas' shaft. Cas moaned loudly and positioned himself so he was standing on the bed, bracing himself against the wall, and Dean was on his knees, still sucking like a porn star.

"Dean, just- just like t... that. Y-yes, yes!" Cas wrapped his hands in Dean's hair, pulling and making Dean moan. Fuck. The vibrations from Dean moaning went straight to Cas' cock. Dean pulled off and Cas groaned in disappointment, but he just dipped his tongue in Cas' slit and kept going.

Cas yelled out as Dean started to deep-throat him. He yanked Dean's hair even harder, which just made Dean moan louder. After a minute, Dean tapped Cas' thigh. Cas understood and started to shallowly fuck Dean's face. Dean moaned and panted, letting his tongue trace Cas' cock every time it hit the back of his throat.

Suddenly, the thrusts got sloppier, and Dean pulled off quickly. Cas moaned in frustration, but stopped when Dean pulled him onto the bed and straddled him.

"I said I'd take care of it. And you know what I think, Cas?" Dean growled as Cas rutted on to Dean's thigh with no shame, "I think that for all your control, all your teasing, hell, even for your fucking angel army-" He broke off with a groan as Cas reached up and pinched his own fucking nipple, letting off a dirty moan. Fuck. "I think for all that... you're just a fucking cockslut."

Cas let off the filthiest string of words Dean had ever heard all together, and ended with a moan that sounded hot and pathetic all at once. He panted out, "D-Dean, Dean please."

"Huh? What's that? You wanna be a little cockslut for me? Huh, angel? Wanna take my big cock so far up your tight little hole you're gonna feel it till next month? Wanna scream so loud all the angels can hear it? All of Heaven and Hell, knowing you're mine? Mine, Cas!"

Cas moaned again and whimpered, "Please."

"Don't worry, angel. This is gonna be good."

Dean reached down and jerked Cas a few times, loving the noises he was drawing out of this fucking Angel of the Lord. He was so going to hell. Again. He got up and crawled off the bed as Cas opened his eyes. "Dean?"

Dean returned a minute later, holding a shoebox he set down on the dresser. "I'm here, angel. Never gonna leave you. Always right here." He drew Cas in for a loving kiss, then kissed up his jawline up to his ear.

He growled into Cas' ear, "Mine. Not Sam's, not Heaven's, hell, not God's. No one else's. Got that, Cas? You are mine." He nibbled on Cas' earlobe and reached over to jerk him again.

Cas whined, "Shit, Dean, please."

Dean fucking keened at that. "Shit, Cas. D-do that ag-gain. Please."

Cas smirked. Dean liked him swearing? Fine. He moved to straddle Dean. "You liked that, hey Dean? Liked picturing me... beating off, in your bed. Bet you almost jacked yourself on the couch, almost came in your pants just thinking about me, lying on this bed, all spread out for you. Just for you Dean. All yours."

Dean whined again. "Cas"

"How long have you wanted me, Dean? How many times have you jerked yourself in the shower, thinking about me under you? Or on top? Fingered yourself, picturing my cock inside you? Huh? Filling you up?"

"How many times," Cas hissed, "have you wanted me to fuck you?"

"Cas!" Dean reached up and drew him in for another long, filthy kiss. Cas moaned into the kiss and rolled over so Dean lay on top. "You know what, Dean?"

"Wh-what?" Dean panted.

"Y-you can be top." Cas groaned. "With any luck, I'll be able to pound your tight ass into next week the next time Sam leaves."

Dean moaned happily. Why had he waited so long to make a move? Who cares, I have Cas now. He shivered and moved over Cas, blanketing Cas' body with his own. "Now as fun as this's been, angel..." He breathed the words into Cas' ear. "Let's get this show on the road."

Dean grabbed the shoebox off the dresser and opened it as Cas cranes his neck to see what was inside. Lube, condoms, and. Are those toys? They were- the shoebox was filled to the brim with vibrators, cock rings, whips, plugs, dildos, gags, ropes, and even more things Cas didn't know the name of. Dean dug out lube and a condom. "Don't worry, angel. It's your first time. No toys for now."

Cas moaned. Dean made it sound like they would be doing this a lot in the future. And who knew Dean was so kinky? Cas' abandoned cock, which was rock hard and resting against his stomach, seemed to twitch and stand up a bit straighter, if possible, and Dean whined, watching a bead of precum squeeze out of the head.

"Dammit, Cas... drive me crazy... wanna fuck you so bad... wanna pound you till you beg, wanna make you beg till you don't know what else to say, till the only word you know is Dean." He stood up and poured some lube on his fingers, rubbing it to warm it up. "Legs up, angel. You ready?" At Cas' nod, Dean slipped a finger into Cas' tight hole.

"Fuck!" Dean wasn't even sure who'd yelled- all he was aware of was Cas' tight ass squeezing around his finger, Cas panting and clutching the bedsheets with white knuckles. Dean kept his finger there, giving Cas a minute to get used to the feeling. "You okay, angel?"

"Please- Dean, please. Please Dean, p-please!" Cas looked close to tears, but there was no telling if that was from pain or pleasure. "What do you need, angel? Need me to stop? I can stop."

"D-dean, please." Cas begged. "Fuckin move." He slammed his hips back against Dean's finger and moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Dean obeyed and dragged his finger out almost completely, and as Cas started to whimper at the loss of stimulation, he slammed it back in, even harder. After a minute of moving his single finger inside Cas, he figured Cas was loose enough for a second.

"Okay, baby. I'm gonna add another finger, and you let me know if it hurts, okay?" Cas nodded. Slowly, Dean edged in another finger. "Fuck!" That was definitely Cas. "How's it feel, angel?"

"Hurts..." Cas panted. "But... good... hurt." Dean took that as an okay and began to pump his fingers in and out of Cas. After a minute, and Cas' complete consent, Dean put in a third finger. This time, he kept his hand still. "D-Dean?"

"You want it so bad? Ride my fingers, angel." Cas moaned again and began to roll his hips against the fingers. Apparently he wasn't doing it with enough gusto, because Dean stopped him after a minute. "Make you a deal, angel. Either you ride these fingers like you want to ride my cock, or you don't get either." Cas glared and started riding Dean's fingers again, way harder and faster, but Dean knew it was spiteful because Cas kept throwing in a bunch of porn-worthy moans that were totally fake.

It was fine for a minute, because no matter the sounds Cas was making, his tight ass was still riding Dean's three fingers. But after a while, Dean decided he'd have to step up his game when Cas sarcastically screamed, "Oh, baby, baby!" like a Southern belle.  
With that, Dean slipped in a fourth finger and curled his fingers simultaneously, pressing directly against Cas' prostate.

Right then, Cas let out a scream that Dean knew was completely real. He kept pumping all four fingers in and out, hitting Cas' prostate every time, while Cas rolled his hips to meet Dean. Cas' breathing got more laboured, and his hips lost their rhythm, and Dean knew he was close. He pulled out all of his fingers.

"You ready for my cock, angel? You ready for me?"

Cas moaned and begged, "Please Dean. Use me, fill me up, I'm yours, all yours, fuck me, come in me, please Dean, please."

"You got it, angel." The next thing Cas felt was Dean's blunt condom-covered head against his entrance, followed by the feeling of being split open, put together, and filled up all at once. Dean moaned into Cas' ear, rocking into him, setting a slow rhythm. "Dean, I... I'm already close."

As soon as he heard that, Dean reached down and took Cas' heavy, neglected cock into his hand. He began to pump it, but Cas slapped his hand away. "Cas- wh-what?"

"Wanna come from you, Dean. Don't need anything else, wanna come just from your cock. Fuck, Dean, your big fucking cock inside my tight little hole. Fuck, feel so good for me Dean. Fucking me with that big cock... hung like a fucking horse, Dean, fuck. Fuck, Dean, I'm close. Fu-u-uck."

Dean groaned and kissed Cas, filthy and wet, then growled into his ear, "Come for me angel."

"Dean!" Cas came so hard he almost blacked out, and he was dimly aware of his cum coating Dean's face and of Dean's moan of "F-fuck, Cas!" as he felt Cas' hole clench around him and he exploded into the condom. "Fuck, angel... so good for me. Shit, angel."

He leaned down to kiss Cas, who ducked the kiss and, instead, licked all the jizz off Deans forehead, cheeks and chin, then went in for a kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and sucked the mess out of his mouth, swirling it around with his tongue and moaning, then swallowed it all.

"Fuck, angel, that was some of the best sex I've ever had."

"Not that I have a comparison point, but that was certainly enjoyable, Dean." Cas scratched his neck and blushed.

Dean nudged him. "Mr Shy again, huh? Man, who knew you were so talkative in the sack. Definitely a good thing, though."

"Oh, okay." Cas elbowed him. "Says Mr I-Have-A-Shoebox-Full-Of-Gay-Sex-Toys."

"First, we are so using those, and second, don't tell Sammy. He's pretty sure I like guys, but he's requested that I never give him any details, and I'm pretty sure him knowing what sex toys I own crosses that line."

Cas smiled. "Of course."

He lay down and Dean curled up protectively over his back. Right before he drifted off, Cas asked, "Dean?"

"Yeah, angel?"

"That wasn't urine, was it?"

Dean chuckled and kissed the back of Cas' neck. "You caught me. I have a question for you. You really never knew how I felt?"

"No," Cas admitted, "But this week I kept wanting to look into your mind, but I refrained. Every time I did look, all I received was a steady reading of DUDE STOP IT OH MY GOD STRAIGHT PORN STRAIGHT PORN STRAIGHT PORN I LOVE BOOBS YAS GIVE ME BOOBS GODDAMMIT!. I must say, I don't appreciate you using Father's name while thinking about porn. How would you like it if I screamed 'John Winchester' while you orgasmed?"

Dean chuckled. "Fair point, angel, sorry for the misunderstanding."

Dean felt Cas fall asleep in his arms, and they lay there for while. Dean was happier than he'd been since before he went to hell, but he couldn't shake the feeling he'd forgotten something important. He decided it couldn't be that important, and drifted off to join Cas in Dreamland. But if he'd thought about it a bit more, he almost would've remembered that Sam had definitely returned to the bunker by then.

Almost.

***

Sunday, Cas decided to clean out the refrigerator. He pulled out the fruit, the beer, the high-pressure whipped cream can, and pretty much everything else. Sam walked by and patted him on the back, albeit warily (He heard pretty much everything yesterday, poor dude). "Good job, man, you've been getting better at chores. The beds look great, Dean help you?"

"Yes," Cas looked at his feet. "Yes, Dean was offering a great amount of... assistance yesterday."

"Yeah," Sam smirked, "I could hear his assistance from the garage. Anyways, I'm gonna let you get back to work, Cas. I'll be in my bedroom if you need me." Cas nodded, face purple.

As Sam left, Dean entered from the living room. "Hey, angel." He walked up to Cas and brushed a hand casually across Cas' groin.  
"Dean." Cas hissed, "Not now."

"Whatever, babe, Sam already knows. I heard him talking. But we probably shouldn't have sex on the counter, you're right. Save it for later, eh? So, whatcha doing?"

"Cleaning the refrigerator out," Cas muttered. "As you can both be disgusting."

"Ah, whatever." Dean popped the cap off a beer and started to walk away, then stopped and turned around. "And Cas?"

Cas looked up. "May I help you?" Dean strode over and pulled a few objects from the pile accumulating on the counter. He made a new pile right next to it containing canned whipped cream, berries, chocolate sauce, and a banana.

"You can, actually. Keep these out- in fact, take them to the bedroom. We're gonna need them later tonight." Dean winked and sauntered away, swigging from his beer. Cas blushed and smiled after Dean's retreating form. Yeah, he was almost starting to like chores.

Almost.


End file.
